By: TlhogiInkWords

I didn’t ask for miracles—
only for truth that didn’t hide when things got hard,
for consistency that didn’t vanish in the dark,
for promises that didn’t change their meaning overnight.
I only wanted presence—
someone whose words could hold me
long after their voice was gone,
someone whose absence wouldn’t speak louder than their love.

But what I received were pauses and ellipses,
half-hearted moments strung together with hopeful thread,
sentences that never reached their endings,
affections that hovered just above commitment,
never landing, never rooting, never staying.
You offered almosts,
maybes,
and a warmth that faded whenever I leaned in too far.

You gave me attention dressed up as care,
replies that felt like routines,
and comfort that vanished
the second I needed it to hold me still.
You stayed—
but not in the way that mattered.
You were there just enough to haunt me,
just enough to keep me wondering
what I could’ve been to you
if only you had decided to stay all the way.

Now I sit with the silence that stayed after you,
the echo of the words you never said,
the weight of potential that never became.
I carry the ache of what might’ve been,
not because you left—
but because you hovered long enough
to make me think you wouldn’t.
Because you lit a spark
and left me staring into ashes,
holding hope like a fool
who believed in almosts.

And the cruelest part?
It wasn’t your leaving that broke me.
It was your staying—
just enough to give me something
I didn’t know how to stop wanting.